


I Turned Him To Gold

by Prince_Of_The_Night



Series: The Winding Road Approaches [3]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Beginnings, Coffee Shops, Kinda, M/M, Other, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 06:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13944609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prince_Of_The_Night/pseuds/Prince_Of_The_Night
Summary: Somewhere between innocent youth and the timeless years of now, there has to be a genesis, a beginning. For them, it's stark and happens suddenly, like the sharp and bitter tang of brewing coffee.





	I Turned Him To Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh. i wanted this to be longer and better, but it wasn't. And the ending sucks. I'm sorry guys. The song for this one is 'Pardon Me' by He Is We. Look out for another fic coming soon. Hopefully, this one will be long, but it will definitely be darker, so fair warning. Also, please consider the Actor AU 'scraped' for now, as I really like the plot and don't know if I want to put it in a fin or make it an original novel. Sorry. Anyways, please enjoy this crap. The title is from 'Roses' by The Chainsmokers. Oh! This is an AU (the modern one the other two have been in) where most of the Exorcists are Policemen.

_ Pardon me for my lack of excitement, _ _   
_ _ But I'm not entirely thrilled _

* * *

Allen lingered against one of the walls, content to watch the interactions but not join them. It was not often that he followed Cross to these monthly dinners; Allen preferred to stay home and marathon horror movies with Anita. But on the occasions when he did come, it wasn’t like he found them unpleasant.

He looked around the room, trying to catch a familiar face. To the left of the room his god-father seemed to be having a pleasant enough conversation with the Head of Forensics department. Allen grabbed a flute of champagne from a waiter passing by and took a sip. He laughed quietly at the fact that he was, even at sixteen, more responsible with drinking than his guardian was. With that thought passing through his head, Allen continued his survey of the room.

Near the door stood Head General Hevlaska. Allen got along well with her and she tended to have a soft spot for kids; from what he heard she had a child of her own. The Head General was an imposing woman with dark skin and a warm smile. Allen mused over what it would be like to have her as a mother.

“Isn’t it illegal for you to be drinking that?” a voice said to his right as he took another sip from his glass, causing Allen to jump and choke on the drink.

“What?” he coughed out, and turned to see who addressed him. He was caught off guard by bright eyes and blue hair.  _ Oh _ , Allen thought belatedly. He took the person in: a white, button-down blouse that looked to be made of silk, dark slacks, three inch high-heels, the butterfly hair clip made up of white and pale green gemstones. They were dressed very nicely, that was for sure. Allen blinked and the other person - who he would guess was probably the same age as Allen - laughed, high and clear.

They pointed to Allen’s glass, and said, “I’m pretty sure you’re underage and you’re drinking.”

“So?” Allen asked, thoroughly confused. His conversation partner just smiled.

“You’re drinking. In a room full of cops.”  _ Ah _ . Yes, Allen  could see how that might be humorous. He shrugged slightly and quietly cleared his throat. Allen spun the cool glass in his hand, trying to tell himself that forming any sort of attachment to someone he’d probably never see again, no matter how pretty said person was, was a stupid idea.

“Well, no one’s ever seemed to mind,” he said, getting a warm laugh in return.

“I’m Alma,” they said, as though every syllable they said didn’t send Allen’s heart thudding. At least he knew he was an idiot.

“Allen,” he said, as he shook the offered hand. Yes, he mused, that smile was certainly dangerous.

* * *

_ St-st-stutter as I talk _ _   
_ _ Flail around as I walk _ _   
_ __ Yeah, the moment’s been killed

* * *

As the night wound down, Allen fled to the well-landscaped, benched area on the east side of the restaurant.  It was quiet and away from the chatter of the private room. He decided he would let Cross’ argument with Colonel Nyne drag on just a little longer before Allen would pull the red-headed man away and back home. But until then, Allen found himself furiously typing into his phone, locked in an intense dispute about the ethics of killing honeybees with a friend.

He blinked and looked up as someone sat beside him on the bench. Slightly startled, he found Alma smiling at him. “Bored?” they asked.

With his own grin creeping up, Allen shook his head. His phone buzzed, and he sent one more  **[I say kill them all]** text to Lavi before muting and turning off his phone. He was nothing if not polite.

“No,” Allen said as he turned to better face Alma. “It was just getting a little loud for me.”

Alma got him laughing though when they said, “Well, I was certainly bored!” The two of them drifted into companionable silence as they watched both the stars and the pedestrians passing by.

Suddenly, somewhere between the dramatic fight of a couple across the street and the police car racing past, Alma asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

Allen had to think for a moment, eyes tracing Orion’s Belt. “Red,” he decided, nostalgic, “I like red.”

“Yeah, I can see that. I like blue.” Allen turned to look at Alma and found their faces only inches apart. If this was a movie, Allen thought, it would be the part where Alma kissed him and the audience would clap, not caring that they had only met that day. Instead, Allen’s eyes flicked to Alma’s bright blue hair and said, “I’d guess.”

Alma laughed and that wild smile was back on their face. They slid back into their previous place before standing and tossing a look back at Allen. “So, I think this is the part where you give me your number,” Alma said.

Allen felt the back of his neck grow warm and, flustered, managed to type his number into Alma’s phone. They took it back and disappeared inside with a smile and a wink.

Allen groaned and dragged a hand down his face. He was fucked. With a sigh, he unlocked his phone and began a new argument with Lavi, on whether the Illuminati was real or not.

* * *

_ I’m not good at this _ _   
_ _ No, not at all _ _   
_ __ I’m not good at this

_ I’m a wreck and I know it _ _   
_ _ Tend to show it _ _   
_ __ Every chance that I get 

* * *

_ Anita’s _ was a small, little cafe tucked into the corner of Queen’s street. Wide and numerous windows coupled with vine and flowers and plants that hung from the walls and ceilings cast the illusion of an open air cafe. And Allen loved every part of it. At seventeen, he had a habit of nestling himself in the far corner, in a happy solitude with his books.

Anita had decided that, of course, ALlen would pay her back for all the tea he would down by working. Which was how he found himself working from 4 to 5, every day after school. Perfectly fine by him. Later, his pseudo-aunt would ruffle his hair and claim it fate. But for now, Allen worked.

It was a Thursday (Allen hated Thursdays, they were long and boring) when it happened. He hadn’t had school that day, and Allen gladly spent the day working in the cafe. By that point, he had worked weekends and breaks enough times to know the regulars.

First, at seven, just after opening, Colonel Tiedoll would march in and order a medium black, cream and two sugars, and never anything different. He would almost always place down five dollars exactly and always told Allen to keep the extra 75 cents as a tip -  not that Allen’s complaining. Then - if the Colonel was stuck on a particularly hard or annoying case - he would sometimes return and order two more coffees.

At a quarter past eight, a rush of sleep-deprived college students would bumble in, mutter about essays that were several pages too long, order anything with an excessive amount of espresso shots. Then they would wander off to whatever morning class hell they subjected themselves to.

Between nine and 10:30, it was mostly tired mothers that milled around. 10:57, precisely, was Allen’s favorite customer. Lavi as one of Allen’s closest friends, despite being almost three years older, and having a habit of never getting the same drink two days in a row.

That Thursday, he pranced in like he knew the manager (though Allen honestly wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case), followed by another man. He was taller, with long, dark hair. Allen didn’t get to observe him much more before Lavi’s red hair and bright eye took over his sight. “Allen!” Lavi said, hands reaching forward to muss up the tow-head’s hair.

Allen, way too used to it, simple grabbed Lavi’s wrists and held them away from his hair. “Hello, Lavi. What can I get you today?”

“Man, I love your hair. It’s even better than Yuu’s!” The long-haired man growled. Lavi paused. Then he grinned and said, “Large vanilla chai, one pump of caramel.”

Allen nodded, hummed, and scribbled Lavi’s name on a cup. He turned to the other man, “And what can I get you?”

The man scowled. “Green tea.”

“And can I get a name for that?”

“Kanda.”

Allen set about making their drinks, and lent an ear to half-listen to his friend’s chatter. “Yuu-chan is in some of my classes!” - “What the fuck have I said about my first name, you damn rabbit?” - “Hey, aren’t you looking into college, Allen?”

Allen smiled and slid the two cups across the counter. “Yeah, but I might take a gap year too. Might go back to visit Germany.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you lived there for a while.” Allen nodded and glanced at the clock. 11:15, his break. With a grateful sigh, he put up his apron and happily took the cup offered to him by Anita. He took up residence in his usual corner and cracked open his book. Allen wasn’t all that surprised when Lavi piled into the the seat across from him. His companion seemed to stay at their table.

“Lavi, I’m reading,” he said instead, mildly amused and annoyed. He sighed and momentarily closed his book as his phone buzzed.

**[We still need to finish your math. Preferably today.]**

Allen stifled a groan. All he wanted was a peace day off school, but fate seemed to be against him in that regard.

**[I’m working right now. Can we talk later? I get off at one.]**

Slightly more annoyed than before (he blamed it on the impending doom called  _ math _ ), Allen finished his drink in one go and collected his book, sliding his phone back into his pocket. Some how, Lavi had managed to stall Allen’s return to work, and geared the two of them to stand near where Kanda sat, who was glaring at Allen for some reason he couldn’t understand.

Lavi waggled his eyebrows, “You texting a girl, Allen? Is she blonde? How hot is she? Is-”

“Lavi!” Allen cut off his friend’s rambling and rolled his eyes. “It’s just my aid. Relax. Now let me get back to work.”

As he turned around to continue working and put on his apron, Allen heard Kanda muttering to Lavi.

“So he’s a bean sprout and he’s an idiot? No wonder you’re friends with him, damn rabbit,” the man mumbled. Allen’s eye twitched and he spun around to face the taller once again.

* * *

_ Butterflies in the skies, _ _   
_ _ They just fly on by. _ _   
_ __ Yeah they're making me sick.

_ They don't flutter about, _ _   
_ _ I'd do without. _ _   
_ __ All they do is kick.

* * *

“Excuse you! You should keep out of other’s business. Honestly, if any one is an idiot here, it’s you!” Allen probably would have continued if a sharp ringing hadn’t alerted him to his 11:30 regular. Turning quickly on his heel he rushed over and, as fast as he could, brewed the drink; he knew who was waiting for him. He hastily shoved it into the customer’s hands. “Okay, you can leave now.”

Cross glanced down at the steaming cup before squinting at Allen and looking back down at the steaming coffee. “Don’t you have school?” he asked as he dropped the exact change on the counter.

“No school today,” Allen supplied and watched from the corner of his eye as Lavi and Kanda disappeared out the door. He felt the tension slip from his shoulders. “I told you about it last night?”

“Oh. Whatever.” Cross left it at that and left.

Sometimes, Allen really hated his job.

* * *

_ Mean it truly, _ _   
_ _ Sincere heart. _ _   
_ _ Why do you do this to me? _ _   
_ __ Tear me apart.

* * *

The next time Kanda shows up at  _ Anita’s _ while Allen is on shift, he wrote  _ Asshole _ on the cup instead. After awhile, it became a habit. Then Alma came in with Kanda once and slips Allen the taller’s number. Two weeks later, he found out Alma and Kanda are together. Allen isn’t really sure how that happened, since their far too nice for Kanda, but whatever.

But the strangest thing happened on a Saturday morning at 8:52 AM, when Allen was exactly 17 years, 9 months, and 23 days old. While handing his two friends (term used lightly for Kanda. Maybe.), Alma leaned across the counter and asked, “Hey, wanna go on a date with us?”

Allen didn’t really understand what was happening, but he grinned widely and managed to say yes. Well, small victories. Later, he’d look back at the moment and laugh. But in that moment, Allen couldn’t be happier.


End file.
